An Australian Halloween

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Pirate's ancestor joins ritual with a witch's coven.
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I've lived here all my life, the east coast of Australia that is. Raised in Brisbane, home of my paternal great-great-grandfather, Jonathon Jacobs, Captain of His Majesties Ship Brisbane. At least, that was his title before he and his officers disserted the Royal Navy and began raiding merchant ships bound for London as well as French and English colonies. Around 1820, he and his crew broke off from the British fleet, flagged the ship with the Skull and Crossbones, and set out on their own.

It wasn't too long before they were caught and brought to London for trial. Most of the officers were hung, enlisted men sentenced to banishment in a penal colony. Captain Jacobs conveniently arranged for the sentence of exile since he gave up three of the four locations of stolen treasure buried around the Pacific. King George IV was not aware of a fourth location; a location so inconvenient that no one would think to look there; the penal colony itself.

By 1825, the New South Wales penal colony was established at Moreton Bay. Upon arrival, Captain Jacobs and his men dug up the treasure buried near what is now Coff's Harbour, a small town about 75 miles south of the settlement. He split half the wealth with his crew and kept the bigger half. Soon they changed the name of the town to Brisbane, after their once infamous ship. He then resumed his old ways.

There wasn't much to pirate, stranded on this colony, but he somehow managed to become the leader of the imprisoned. As British ships dropped off more and more unfortunates he and his men set to rule over them, making the laws, controlling the wealth, and taking what they wished; including other prisoners. Eventually Brisbane became the capitol of the new colony of Queensland; with the Jacob's line part of the new nobility. Most of the women arrived when London decided to empty the debtor's prisons. Londoners petitioned Parliament to put them in exile since it no longer made sense to use public funds to support those who could not pay what they currently owe. So "let them take care of themselves," said the London elite. And they too were banished.

II

That would be how he met my great-great-grandmother. She and twelve of her friends were sent to the debtor's prison based on late payment of rent to the Archbishop of Canterbury. The thirteen of them lived in what was once a convent, but was disenfranchised from the Anglican Church due to unorthodox practices which included unproven charges of witchcraft. Since they were no longer part of the church, the Archbishop demanded a considerable amount for rent. After three months of underpayment he was able to have them all thrown into prison. Upon arrival in Brisbane, Caption Jacobs and his men took the thirteen women as personal servants and common-law wives.

Their servitude was extreme. Bordering on slavery, one could argue; sexual slavery. Forced to walk through market centers without clothing, and to please any who demanded it. Those with child by one of the HMS Brisbane were sent further north and allowed to raise families; visited by the father upon occasion and given provisions.

As the population swelled, more moved further south, but due to the warmer temperature and the lack of a large population, the descendents of the Canterbury Thirteen settled further north in the Cape York Peninsula, a very rural area where their practices could go unnoticed.

As a columnist for the Brisbane Sentinel Magazine, I was sent up here to write a feature story on the Canterbury Thirteen in time for the Halloween issue. That was five years ago. Now I live in the Cape, in a small flat, alone with my cat, writing novels and waiting for the Olde Hallowmas once a year to relieve my frustration.

III

When I first arrived, I stayed in a small inn near Weipa, off the Duifken Point; a quaint establishment with a pub in the lobby and a winding staircase leading up to the rooms. Having looked through most of the archives for names and information on the coven I had already written the story, but it wasn't what I wanted. Something was missing. I wasn't sure what. So I decided to just go out on Halloween and see what I could find. There was still time to e-mail the longer version to my editor in Brisbane later that evening, if not; he would just run what I already sent him.

I walked through the village along the brick sidewalk at dusk. The air was thick with moisture and very warm. Persistent motion filling the air as a gentle wind swirled the leaves constantly. White noise filled my ears and the warm zephyr tossed my hair.

Children were out soul-caking. They would go from one Victorian era house to another, asking for spiced cakes that the householders would award as payment for prayers the children promised to say for the family's ancestors. Some of the houses placed lanterns made of turnips on gateposts to protect them from spirits.

Most of the teenagers wore scary costumes to frighten evil spirits; knowing that their own ancestors would recognize them as the souls of the dead came back to visit their family and friends. The evening before the Hallow is the instance when the veil between this world and that of the spirit realm was the thinnest. The best time to travel across; from this plane to the other, or vice versa.

Younger children sat inside circles of yellow and white flowers so they could see the fairies dancing over them. Others cut designs into large beets called "punkies." They carried them through the streets singing Punkie Night songs, knocking on doors and asking for money.

I could see from the street through the picture window families in their homes. Sitting as some did in front of the fire, roasting nuts and eating apples. They told stories and played holiday games; calling this night Snap Apple Night. While others sat in silence at the dinner table to have a "dumb supper." Reserving one empty place setting for a relative that had passed on but not speaking a word through the entire meal; eating in silence to hear a sound from the missing family member, hoping for a visit.

I continued to walk until I saw a large sign over a crowded pub that said "All Hallows Eve Welcome." Invitation enough, I entered and found a seat at the bar. Drinking a local sour mash whiskey I looked around; mostly inebriated locals, shouting and laughing, having good cheer, many in costume. More women than men, but that was not unusual for this part of the country. One woman in particular caught my attention. Dressed very provocatively and costumed as a witch; she drank red wine and stared at me under a pointed hat.

IV

Crossing her legs, she exposed a garter belt holding a sheer black stocking up to her mid-thigh. The slit in her black satin full length dress rode very high, almost to her waist. She wore a cape, black, tied around her neck, while the front of her blouse cut deep into her cleavage; pushed up by a form-fitting corset. She wiggled her shoe as it dangled from her crossed legs; drawing attention to its five inch heel.

Her hair was long, dark, and thin; framing her cheekbones and accenting her eyes; eyes that would not stop watching me. She tipped up her tall pointed hat and smiled. Waiting for a response; sipping her wine.

At this point I knew I had to move it or lose it. I left money on the bar and walked over. Sitting down at her table I asked if anyone else was with her tonight. She replied "no Mr. Jacobs," batting her eyes.

"Have we met?" I asked.

"Not recently. Aren't you the bloke who's been asking all the questions, digging through the death certificates and the lot?"

"Yes, I was doing research for a story. How'd you know?"

"I work in the clerk's office." Smiling as she touched her cape, "usually I'm dressed differently."

I chuckled, admiring her costume, "let me guess...you're a witch?"

"You're so observant! What are you this evening? Let's see...a middle-aged tourist looking for a date on the Samhain?" She said, looking me over some more.

"Oh, I just thought I'd go out tonight and see how the locals celebrated the holiday. Maybe touch up my story a bit. That's about it."

"No date then?"

"That wasn't the intention, but that could change..." I looked at her hair and brushed it back over her shoulder, then placed my hand on hers. She caught me looking down at her bust line; pushed up and together from the black corset tightly laced with red; bolstering the most wonderful pair of creamy white pillows fit for a man to rest his weary head in slumber, or to play and taste to his heart's content.

"As I said, you're so observant," she said with a smile. Leaning forward to encourage my view, she moved our coupled hands to her leg, placing mine on her thigh, pushing it up over the top of her stocking, then back down to the sheer portion just under the lace top.

"Do you like the feel of silk? I do. I love to wear these. Do you approve dear Jonathon?"

"Yes," I answered somewhat nervously. She was so bold. And how did she know my name? I certainly wasn't complaining.

"Then why don't we dance a bit? Or would you like to finish your drink first?"

"I think I need my drink," I said with slight embarrassment. She smiled and lifted my glass. Placing it on my lips, tipping it until I took hold of the bottom; she kept holding it, tipping higher until I had no choice but to finish my whiskey in one large gulp.

She quickly finished her wine in the same manner then stood up with her hands on her hips and asked again, "how 'bout that dance love?"

We moved to the center of the dance floor. Another song began; an older one. Modern music wasn't heard much in these parts. Unless one tuned in a station from Brisbane or New Guinea, it was the sounds of the 70s or 80s that played locally.

She began to move her hips to the beat of "Super Freak" as I stood in awe. Gyrating about, she danced around me until I began to move with her. Coming around from behind she faced me, grinned, placed her hat on my head then turned her back and leaned forward. Pumping her hips back and forth she provided quite a show. The crowd began to watch as she backed into me. Pressing herself on me; grinding as she reached up and to hold the back of my neck; she stroked my hair as I leaned into her, hugging her from behind and kissing her neck and earlobe.

As the music began to wind down she asked if I wanted to leave with her. She was going to a party and wanted my company.

"Sure. How could I refuse such an enthusiastic invitation?" I took her by the hand, put her pointed hat back on her head, and escorted her from the pub.

We leaned against each other while walking a short while down the street. The evening was balmy and the darkness was setting in. Arriving at a silver Range Rover parked along the curb; she pulled out a set of keys from a pocket inside her cape and pushed the auto unlock button on the chain. Opening the driver side door, she removed her hat and tossed it over the seat into the back.

"Leave the broom at home?" I joked.

"Yeah, it tends to scare the locals. Plus there's no room for a passenger!" She smirked.

V

Driving out of town I asked about the party, "is it far from here? Are they friends of yours?"

"Yeah, you could say that. I hope you like women." She smiled. "I mean several. We have a party on Samhain Eve every year; it's out in the country, about twenty minutes north."

Curious, I asked "Samhain?"

It's what we call the holiday up here. It comes from the Old Country." Pointing out the passenger side window, "look!" she exclaimed. They are trying to scare away the witches!"

In the distance I could see a farmer and his family circled around burning bails of hay. Scooping it up with pitchforks and tossing it into the night sky. The flaming hay flying, circling through the air as the breeze carried it up and away.

She laughed, "they've been doing that since the Night of the Tain."

She looked at me through the corner of her eye. Placed her hand on my leg and smiled. "It's warm tonight. I really don't like air conditioning. Mind if I get more comfortable?"

Not waiting for an answer she pulled over, opened the door and got out. Standing in my full view, she removed her long skirt and cape. Placing it in the back seat, she leaned down to make eye contact with me and said "you too, they won't let you in like that!"

Laughing, she walked over to my side of the Range Rover. "Out! Let's go Mr. Jacobs." She opened the door and I got out.

She stood there in a black lace thong, her stockings and garter, corset, and five-inch heels. Playing with her hair a bit she grinned. "Now love, you like what you see?"

"Yes, very much," I grabbed her and kissed her deeply. No traffic has gone by yet, but I knew it was only a short matter of time.

Pushing me back a bit, she commanded. "Now it's your turn, strip!"

Taking off my shirt, I asked, "so where is this party? And what kind of party is this anyway?"

"What's wrong Jonathon? Are you shy?" She cooed.

Unbuckling my pants I allowed them to drop to the ground. "Me? Oh no, I'm as bold as they come," I lied.

Standing there in boxers ogling this half-naked woman I became aroused. Taking notice, she stroked me to attention.

"Now you're almost ready. We're very close to the party now." She fondled me some more through my shorts then pulled them down to the ground.

"Step out love."

I did and she gathered my things off the ground and tossed them into the back seat with hers.

"Now back in the car and we'll be on our way."

We drove another mile or so then suddenly she turned off the road into a field. The field led to a patch of trees where she continued on a path through the center. Naked as I was, we drove deeper into this small forest of palm trees and brush. Speeding through with the windows down, the wind blowing over our bodies, she resumed stroking me if she noticed a slight loss of interest.

The vehicle slowed as we approached a clearing. When she stopped I could see small table-like structure with a group of other women milling about; some placing objects on the table, others just talking to each other, some turned and noticed our approach.

"What's going on here?" I asked.

"Kiss me," she commanded.

VI

Although I had not yet received an answer to my question, I felt very drawn to her; not only due to my current state of vulnerability, but also owing to a certain magnetic charm that seemed to emanate from her.

I moved closer opening my mouth. She met me half way, lips caressing, tongues darting; I inhaled her breath as she massaged the packaged orbs between my legs with her fingers and pressed on my erection with the palm of her hand.

"Are they full baby?" she cooed; flicking her tongue on my lips, moving to my ear. "I hope they're all full," she whispered. "I'm going to make it all come out. My friends are all going to help too. I bet it squirts far," she giggled. "Do you mind if they help?"

"No," panting as I tried to speak.

She grabbed my head by the chin and turned it to face her. Looking deep into my eyes, she asked: "would you like to join our party then?"

"Yes...please...let's join the party," I answered with full desire.

She grinned, backed away slightly and removed her hand from between my legs and looked at me.

"Well, Mr. Jacobs, I suppose its time then."

Puzzled by her sudden formality, I watched as she stepped out of the Range Rover, walked around to the front of the car and waved to the small gathering. One of the gathering gestured for her to walk up and join them. She shook her head in the affirmative and walked over to my door.

Opening the door, she grinned at me. As well she should, my predicament was amusing; naked, in the middle of nowhere, fully erect and about to step out in front of twelve strangers all of which are female.

"Time to show you off love," she said.

Raising an eyebrow, she placed a hand on her well rounded and exposed hip, then asked, "ready for a go then?"

I think life can be broken down to a series of small events that have enormous impact, the rest is all filler. I thought for another moment...this is one of those events.

I took a deep breath, looked down at myself at attention and was suddenly taken with a strong sense of pride.

"Ready!" Stepping out of the car, I shut the door and smiled.

Caressing my chest she chuckled, "there's my man! Now, do as I say love, or there'll be no fun for you. Hands on your head," she commanded.

Although I noticed a sudden change in tone, I saw no harm in playing along. Placing my hands on the top of my head I clasped my fingers.

Firmly squeezing the erection she had caused, she whispered to me in a stern tone, "no talking unless you are asked a question. Understand?"

"Yes," I said.

"Good, now let's go love." Tugging and pulling on me by my permanently attached leash, I walked behind her as we approached the others. All twelve were dressed like her; tightly laced corsets trimmed in red, sheer stockings held up to the mid-thigh by a garter belt attached to the corset. Capes, some with pointed hats, and all with black shoes sporting extremely high heels, so high that an ankle strap was needed to keep them from coming off while walking. But not all were wearing panties. At least not the few lying on the ground, legs splayed as others licked and kissed in the most intimate of areas.

Massaging her breast with one hand, the blond one on her back moaned as she grabbed the brunette by the back of her head and pushed it high into her. Forcing her nose to rub into her sex, harder and faster her head began to move. The brunette's hips began to buck up and down as she leaned down on the other while perched on her knees, backside high in the air, open, nether lips glistening with moisture.

As I stood at attention and watched this wonderful display of feminine charm, my companion continued to stroke me, ever so slowly, not allowing me to climax but never removing her hand.

One who appeared to be a little older than the rest and obviously in charge, slapped the brunette on her upright bum two or three times until she stopped and looked up. Licking her lips and breathing the other's fragrance in deeply as it was still smeared on her nose she replied. "What Mum? Just getting ready we are!"

"Ready are you?" The High Priestess said as she pulled them both up by the hair.

"Let's see what our neophyte brought us for her initiation," said the High Priestess. "Sister Dana, care to introduce us?"

"This is Mr. Jonathon Jacobs V," Dana said with pride as she finally let go of the permanently attached leash after giving it one final stroke.

I still had my hands clasped to the top of my head. They all looked me up and down, most of them stopping their eyes on the engorged member standing upright between my legs; giggling a bit their eyes widened.

The blonde was still brushing her backside and legs off from lying on the ground, then while looking me in the eye, she inserted a finger inside herself and asked: "can I have him first? I'm game for a go with this bloke right now!"

"I'm sure you are Sister Elizabeth," said the High Priestess. "But your randy little opening would probably leave him too warn for the rest of us! Perhaps we should get it an ice cube to cool down as I have you wait 'till last or would that just make you wet your knickers double quick!?"

They all laughed. I watched as poor Elizabeth hung her head low in embarrassment. Letting her long hair cover her face she pulled her panties up and stopped playing with herself. I waited for her to look up again after the laughter slowed; I caught her eye and blew her a kiss. She smiled, blushed a bit and batted her eyes at me.

12